I can't control the weather
by to-lick-a-fro
Summary: Cabin Pressure ficlet. As a Texan thunderstorm prevents Martin, Douglas and Arthur from reaching their destination, Arthur reveals one of his fears and Martin tries to help him with it. This also has enabler!Douglas.


"Post-landing checks complete, Captain."

"Thank you, Douglas." Martin stared out of the windshield at the particularly wet and windy tarmac of Gatesville Airport, Texas. "You know Carolyn is going to kill us for this. I promised her we wouldn't divert anymore unless there was a serious problem."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Martin, even though I'm _obviously _not," Douglas said, stretching his legs and taking off his hat, "but last I checked having to fly through an unexpected July thunderstorm in this particular area, that is, for your information, graced with the sinister yet apt title of _tornado alley_, qualifies as a serious problem."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Martin sighed, as the wind violently blasted the rain against the side of the aircraft and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. "I should probably call to break the bad news to her, though."

"Indeed you should. Meanwhile, as it looks like where going to be stuck here for a while, I'll go and take care of some business downtown."

"You mean you'll find the nearest bar, convince some poor Texan bastard he should take that ridiculous amount of Indonesian coffee beans you've been dragging along on several flights off you in exchange for something wildly more expensive so you'll eventually end up with a lot of money."

"Of _course_ not!" Douglas exclaimed slyly as he opened the flight deck door. "I would speak some site specific, reptile related parting words but I'm sure you wouldn't be interested."

"...What?"

"See you later, _alligator_."

As lightning flashed and lit up the cabin, Martin got up to get himself some coffee. As he had predicted, Carolyn hadn't taken the news very well, explaining to him for the umpteenth time how touching down at an airport they weren't supposed to touch down at was likely to bankrupt MJN Air. His perfectly reasonable argument ("We would crash and die!") went unheard, of course, as Carolyn claimed they were a bunch of useless dolts who were afraid of a little crosswind.

The empty passenger cabin seemed to amplify the storm's uproar, and Martin hurried through to get to the small kitchen in the back of the aeroplane. Passing the last row of seats, something caught the leg of his trousers. Turning around to pull out the fabric that probably got stuck to a belt buckle or something, Martin practically jumped. Curled up on the two back seats of the plane, a shaking Arthur was grabbing on to Martin's trouser leg for dear life.

"Arthur?" he asked tentatively, his voice almost drowned out by the rolling thunder outside. "A-Are you alright?" He sat down awkwardly on the narrow strip of chair Arthur's body wasn't covering. Arthur's hand let go of his trousers, as Martin cleared his throat. "I thought you went with Douglas, I didn't expect you to still be... here..."

Martin was entirely unsure of what to do. He'd never seen Arthur like this, and besides, his comforting skills weren't exactly top-notch. In a desperate attempt to let Arthur know it was okay, he started to pat his back stiffly. Immediately Arthur clung to him, wrapping his arms around Martin's waist and burying his head in Martin's side. Martin could feel his shallow, rapid breathing. He decided that it would probably be best to stay here for a while.

Arthur mumbled something into Martin's chest.

"Sorry, what?"

Arthur slowly uncoiled himself and sat up in the chair next to Martin.

"I'm afraid of thunderstorms. I was too afraid to leave the plane but it's not very nice inside, either. Well, it wasn't, anyway."

"You should've told me. I could've - well, I couldn't've stopped that storm from happening, obviously, but I-I-I'd've, you know, kept you company. If I'd known."

"Thanks, Skip," Arthur said, a watery smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's almost over now, isn't it?"

"I think so, yes."

"Brilliant." Arthur exhaled slowly.

"So, Arthur, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh, yes please. Lots of milk, four sugars, please."

When Martin came back with one cup of disgustingly sweet tea and his own mug of steaming black coffee, Arthur was waiting for him on his chair, hugging his knees. He took his cup gratefully and wrapped his hands around it securely.

"Thanks, Skip."

"You're very welcome," Martin said, sitting down next to Arthur once again. For a while, they drank their respective drinks in silence, with the occassional faraway thunder making Arthur recoil into his chair just a tiny bit everytime. This particular reaction didn't escape Martin's attention. Without saying a word, he clumsily draped his arm around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him closer. Arthur didn't protest and somehow this made Martin feel useful and, well, _needed_. It wasn't a feeling he was used to but it felt good. Really good.

"Look, I'm sorry Carolyn, but contrary to your beliefs, _I can't control the weather_!" If Martin hadn't already been shouting to make himself heard above the terrible racket the storm was making, now would be the moment he'd start. After misleading them into thinking it had died down, the storm had decided to pick up again, and according to the weather reports Martin had requested their first opportunity to take off safely was tomorrow afternoon.

"Oh alright," he barely heard Carolyn sigh. Martin exhaled, put his hand on his hip and looked over his shoulder. Arthur had crawled back into his former position the moment the storm had picked up again, and Martin hadn't hesitated to call Carolyn and demand to let them stay the night. "Is he okay?"

"What? Oh - er, he-he's..." Martin started, hesitating. "He's not brilliant," he decided. "But I'm sure he'll be fine as soon as we get him out of GERTI and into a nice warm bed."

Carolyn hummed in agreement and Martin could only just make out a slightly anxious edge to her tone. "Thank you, Martin," she said briskly. "Don't forget to pick the hotel yourself. _Don't_ let Douglas do it. If he wants bathrobes and four-poster beds he can pay for them himself."

Just as Martin turned off the SatCom, a thoroughly soaked but visibly pleased Douglas entered the cabin.

"Is there a particular reason for Arthur's recent affinity for the fetal position or is he simply playing solo hide and seek again? We really should tell him we can actually _see _him, even though he can't see us."

Douglas shook off his sodden coat, sending water everywhere.

"_Douglas_..." Martin started, deeply annoyed. Then, he decided there were more pressing matters at hand. He cleared his throat. "He's afraid of thunderstorms. Really, really afraid."

"Well, at least that explains the welcome I received when I entered the plane, taking about half a lake and some extra thundery decibels with me as I did so."

"Why, what did he do?"

"Oh, nothing unusual, he just put his fingers in his ears and started singing quite loudly. Of course, being Arthur, his internal jukebox is limited to Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines, so that wasn't as entertaining as it sounds."

"God, Douglas, that doesn't sound entertaining, that sounds horrible! We have to get him out of here and into a hotel."

"I absolutely agree. I know a great place, it's just -"

"No, you don't. I'm the Captain, and I will decide where we'll be staying tonight."

"Carolyn put you up to this, didn't she?" Douglas bristled as he reluctantly dropped his flight bag on his bed. "It's not our fault we're grounded, and yet we, mighty champions of the sky, we, daring defeaters of gravity, have to pay _dearly_ for this appalling turn of events. Fate, thou art a fickle mistress."

"Come on, Douglas, it's not that bad," Martin said, hanging his coat out to dry over the back of a chair. "We've all got a bed and we share a bathroom with only two other rooms."

"_Not that bad_? Well, it's not that bad for you, I suppose, seeing as you're used to living in _an attic the size of a linen cupboard_. For the rest of us, sharing a bedroom with two other grown men who are neither family members nor sexual interests and a toilet with another six unknown individuals closely resembles their nightmarish memories of boarding school."

"I think it's brilliant," Arthur said, flopping down on his bed. As soon as they'd entered the hotel his mood had brightened, Martin had been pleased to notice. "It's weird, though, isn't it, that after all this time flying together we've never actually shared a room."

"That's not weird, Arthur. That's very much _intentional_," Douglas said.

"Anyway," Martin pressed, "we should get some sleep since we've probably got to fly through some tricky crosswinds tomorrow. We'll need our rest."

"This is where we disagree," Douglas started, ignoring Martin's annoyed huff. "You see, I am not tired. I am, in fact, wide awake. I am of the opinion that nobody should voluntarily spend any length of time in this… _room_, except when it's absolutely, undeniably necessary. As I am not tired, it is not necessary for me to be here, because I do not need to use the bed. The only thing in this room is the bed, ergo, I should leave."

"Where are you going, Douglas?" Arthur asked, sitting up on his bed and hugging one of the pillows.

"As it happens, I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Brilliant!"

"You're now picturing him beating somebody up whilst wearing a tuxedo, aren't you?" Martin sighed.

"Yeah!"

"No more James Bond for you. Douglas, please don't take too long."

"Martin, I know how hard it is for you to be apart from me, but it's _eight 'o clock in the evening_. No sane human being, not even a pilot, goes to sleep at that hour."

"I do!" Arthur exclaimed happily. "I love going to bed early."

"Like I said," Douglas went on, "no _sane human being_."

Martin couldn't sleep. He was a light sleeper in normal conditions but this particular thunderstorm could keep even Douglas awake. And Douglas could pretty much sleep anywhere, as Martin had, on several different occassions, had the misfortune to experience.

It also didn't help that a certain steward kept whimpering after every flash of lightning and deafening roll of thunder. Finally, after two hours of tossing, turning and sighing, Martin couldn't take it anymore.

"Get over here, Arthur," he said, rolling over to one side of his bed.

Martin didn't look up. He was still recovering from the shock he'd given himself by telling Arthur to crawl into bed with him as he heard Arthur's covers rustling. A weight pressed down on the right side of his mattress and then there were two people in Martin's bed.

"A-Are you okay?" Martin asked, his back to Arthur. It seemed like the right thing to do after telling a scared colleague to share your bed.

"Yeah," Arthur squeaked, invalidating his answer right away.

Martin knew he was toeing a very, very delicate line here. He was probably going to be unable to sleep himself for the rest of the night, resulting in him not being fit enough to fly which would cause them to be unable to take off the next day. Carolyn would absolutely, unmistakably _kill_ him. Not to mention the endless sarcastic remarks he'd have to endure from Douglas when he found out his two fellow flyers had actually _slept together_.

However, as those horrible scenarios were all playing over and over in his mind, he suddenly realized Arthur's breathing had slowed down considerably. Actually, he could hear him snoring slighty. Martin's eyebrows raised in surprise and he carefully looked over his shoulder. Arthur was sleeping. Martin yawned. That _did_ look relaxing. And the added warmth from having another human being this close was making him a bit drowsy, actually...

Martin's eyes flew open as he heard the door close. Immediately he was aware of the presence of another human being really very close and everything came rushing back to him. He glanced at the illuminated numbers on the alarm clock. It was a couple of minutes after midnight and the room was completely dark. The wind had audibly decreased in strength, but the rain was coming down heavy as ever.

"_Well_," he heard Douglas say, and Martin closed his eyes, preparing himself for the avalanche of sarcasm that undoubtedly awaited him, "took you long enough."

And with that, Douglas got into his own bed, leaving Martin to the confused thoughts running around in his head and his arm around Arthur's waist.

Martin woke up to the smell of freshly made coffee and a hint of warm bread. He sat up and found all the other beds empty.

"Goodmorning, Skip!" Arthur called, poking his head out of the bathroom, the door of which stood open. Half of his face was covered in shaving foam, causing Martin to doubt whether or not he was actually awake – somehow imagining Arthur shaving felt… well, _odd_.

"Goodmorning, Arthur," Martin said, rubbing his eyes and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Did – did you sleep well?"

"Absolutely! Thanks to your brilliant solution."

Martin blushed furiously as he heard the tap running. Arthur emerged from the bathroom, dabbing at his face with a towel. Martin got up, running a hand through his hair and trying to avoid Arthur's eyes. He cleared his throat and told himself to get over it.

"Er - where's Douglas?"

"I don't know. He got us breakfast and left you a note, though. I didn't open it because it has your name on it." Arthur handed Martin a folded hotel napkin with his name on it in Douglas' neat and tall hand. On the inside, the napkin was completely covered in words. Martin started to read.

_Martin,_

_You have at several occasions demonstrated your talent for mucking things up, so I decided you needed a nice big shove in the right direction this time. I've arranged one of the best trades of my life - and it's _me_ we're talking about so that's saying something – so I will be otherwise engaged until we take off this afternoon. This gives you exactly five hours to work your magic on Arthur._

_Farewell for now, and I'd like to add some kind of feline encouragement at this point. (As I'm sure your face is distorted into a most displeasing look of incomprehension, I'll spell it out for you: _go get him, tiger_.)_

_Also, you owe me._

_Douglas_

"What does it say, Skip?" Arthur asked, practically jumping up and down with curiosity.

"Nothing." Martin tried to stuff the napkin into the pocket of his trousers, only to realise he was still in his pajamas. In his desperation, he almost decided he'd need to eat the bloody thing, when he finally managed to find his flightbag to stow it in, as far down as possible. "Nothing. Douglas had to take care of his trading business, which is totally illegal, by the way, so he'll be back once we get clearance to take off."

"Oh, right. So, what are we going to do now?"

"Wh-what?" Martin looked up.

"Well, we have a couple of hours before we have to get ready, right? So we could go take a walk or call mum or find a restaurant and order a real hamburger, you know, an American one. I've always wanted to try one." Arthur rambled. Martin stared at him. "Skip? Are you okay, Skip? You look a bit… weirded out."

"I'm fine, Arthur. It's just – to be honest, I feel a bit uncomfortable."

"Why? I didn't do something, did I?" Arthur looked genuinely guilty.

"No no no, Arthur, look. I've never really been close to anyone. I mean, at one point I had a girlfriend in elementary school, but ever since, there hasn't been… anybody, you know, _special_."

"So?"

"Well, you… you-you-you're quite special." Martin stared at the floor, his cheeks once more flushing bright red.

"Oh, Skip," Arthur said, and Martin could hear the smile in his voice, even without looking at him. "That's brilliant! Because I think you're special, too. And I like being close to you."

Martin looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah!"

A loud rumbling outside made Arthur wince. He kept staring at the window and Martin got up, went over to the bed Arthur was sitting on and gently took his shoulders.

"It's okay," he said, looking at Arthur. "Let's have some breakfast, okay? The storm will be over soon and we can go home."

"Yeah, okay," Arthur said, still a bit startled. Then, as he looked at Martin, he smiled. "You know, this trip hasn't been that bad."

Martin smiled at him. "My thoughts exactly. Tea?"

"Please! Lots of milk – "

"- four sugars, I know."


End file.
